The Assistant Coach (BOOK 1: OMEN KING SERIES)

|𝟹𝟽|

Leia Welsh

What is wrong with me?

I can't help but wonder as I sit here, nursing my wounded pride. He's a playboy, that much I know. So why did I expect him to remember what I did last night? Stupid, I know. But somehow, it stings more than it should.

I wasn't even drunk when I made my move. No, I did it because I finally came to terms with the fact that I like him. And because I wanted to see if he remembered, considering how wasted he was.

He shut me down, claiming I was too intoxicated. But was that the real reason? Or was it simply because I'm not his type? The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Ari's concerned voice breaks through my thoughts. I force a smile, masking the turmoil inside me.

No, I'm not okay.

"Whose coat is that?" Ari's question draws my attention to the soft black fabric draped around me. It smells like him. Warren. Despite everything, it's comforting. I don't even care that I'm wearing it. I just want to wrap myself in its warmth and forget about the mess I've gotten myself into.

I sit in silence, my mind drifting away from the game that's unfolding in front of me. The announcers have made it clear that I shouldn't be in the box, but I couldn't care less.

Only one coach is supposed to be in there, and I don't want to be that person, so I didn't bother putting up a fight and I let Coach Johnson take his rightful place.

The sound of cheers fills the air, but I'm not really paying attention. I glance out at the ice and spot the number twenty-four jersey, Warren, bumping shoulders with a rival. Ant has just scored a goal, and the crowd goes wild.

"WOOO!" Ari shouts excitedly beside me, joining in with the rest of the cheering crowd. But I don't feel like cheering.

It's a strange sensation, being surrounded by so much excitement and energy, yet feeling so detached.

I glance at the scoreboard and see that we're in the lead. A surge of pride washes over me, but it's quickly overshadowed by a wave of emptiness. I should be happy, thrilled even, but I just can't seem to muster up the enthusiasm.

"Did you and Kohl get into a fight?" Ari asks as her eyes stay glued to the game, her below shoulder length red hair falling in waves around her shoulders.

"Why would you think that?" I responded.

I roll my eyes at the thought of trying to hide anything from Ari. She knows me too well.

"I almost had sex with him last night," I blurt out, unable to keep it in any longer. Ari's eyes widen in shock, her perfectly

shaped eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline.

"I think I like him, but he didn't even remember last night. In fact, he was the one that stopped it. His excuse was that I was drunk," I say, my frustration evident in my tone.

I can't believe I'm pouring my heart out during a stupid game that I should be focused on coaching, not relationship drama.

Ari doesn't look fazed at all, her painted lips forming a small smile. "Maybe because he actually thought you were drunk?" she suggests, her voice laced with a hint of teasing. I bite my lip, feeling a mix of irritation and doubt at her response.

Is that seriously all there is to it? I mean, it does make sense in a twisted kind of way. It's not like I go around kissing people like Warren does. Okay, so maybe I did "sexually harass" him a few times, but that's beside the point.